


A Series of H/C One-Shots for YOI

by carefulren



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: These are Tumblr prompt fills! I'll add more as I fill them!





	1. Sick Yurio Wearing Viktor's Jacket

Yurio would never tell anyone if he were feeling unwell; he didn’t see the point. So, when Viktor suggested they go skate together for a bit, Yurio agreed despite his stomach flipping uncomfortably.

The walk to the rink was cold, not surprising being in the middle of one of the notorious Russian winters, and Yurio picked up his pace as small shivers wracked his slender frame. When he reached the rink, he slipped out of his jacket and swapped his sneakers to skates before meeting Viktor, who was already out on the ice.

The two skated together in silence, twisting and twirling around each other for an hour despite Yurio’s stomach churning violently all the while. But, he never uttered a single complaint, and he kept his face neutral. Skating with Viktor wasn’t something that came by often, and he wanted a chance to show Viktor what he was capable of.

“Okay, I’m going to show you a routine I’m working on. I want to know if you have any changes or additions to it.”

Yurio’s eyes went wide for a brief moment because he wasn’t aware that Viktor valued his opinion. But, he shot Viktor a quiet “whatever” before skating off the ice.

He plopped down onto a bench as Viktor started the routine. He wanted to put his complete focus towards the way Viktor angled his arms or the smooth transitions from jumps to spins, but he was having trouble concentrating thanks to the chill seeping into his bones accompanied with this twisting stomach. He rubbed at his bare arms, glancing around until he spotted Viktor’s white and red jacket tossed over a bag.

He leaned over and grabbed it, sliding his thin arms into the warm sleeves then wrapping it tightly around his shivering frame. He breathed out a sigh of relief, turning his attention back towards Viktor’s routine.

He watched intently, trying hard to ignore his knotted stomach, but, just as Viktor was reaching the climax of the routine, his stomach flipped violently. He hopped to his feet, wrapping one arm around his stomach as he staggered out of the stadium and towards the closet bathroom.

Once he reached the bathroom, his stomach seemed to settle slightly, and he leaned against the wall, shivering hard and breathing harshly. He was so very cold and felt utterly miserable, and he knew he should take Viktor’s jacket off in case he actually did throw up because he didn’t want to risk ruining it. But, Viktor’s jacket seemed to be the only comforting aspect of this entire situation, so he kept it on, relishing in the warmth as he waited to see what his stomach decided to do.

It didn’t take long until his stomach had him shoving a bathroom stall door open and dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. He heard the familiar squeak of the main bathroom door opening just as his stomach churned, forcing him to press up on his knees just before he began to heave violently into the toilet.

“Yurio!”

Yurio felt cool hands brush against his neck to hold his hair back, and he shivered at the touch. He realized as another wave hit that he hadn’t eaten much in the last few days. He had thought it was simply because he wasn’t hungry, but now he’s clearly thinking otherwise.

“Oh, Yurio,” Viktor cooed, and Yurio rolled his eyes as his stomach settled. He flushed the toilet before struggling to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he spit out, turning to push past Viktor and exit the stall, but Viktor stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Is that my jacket?”

Yurio glanced down suddenly with wide eyes, afraid that he might have ruined it, but everything appeared crisp and clean albeit a little wrinkled. He moved to take it off but stopped when Viktor grabbed his wrist.

“Why are you wearing it?”

There was only worry and curiosity coloring Viktor’s tone, and Yurio sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t feel well,” he muttered. “And it’s comfortable.”

Viktor cupped his chin, and he moved his face up, meeting Viktor’s wide, worried eyes. He closed his eyes as Viktor pressed a palm to his forehead.

“You’re warm,” Viktor said gently. “You should have said you were feeling ill.”

Yurio shrugged, stepping around Viktor to exit the stall. He again moved to slip out of Viktor’s jacket but stopped when Viktor’s hand fell down onto his shoulder.

“Keep it. I’m sure you are feeling terrible.”

Yurio glanced down, allowing his hair to mask his eyes. He nodded once, wrapping his arms around his slender frame as his shivering picked back up, but he quickly snapped his gaze up just as Viktor snaked an arm around his waist.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

He nodded once more, leaning into Viktor’s warmth as the two started out to gather their things.

Yurio felt terrible no doubt, but Viktor’s jacket was, in a way, its own medicine. And, he briefly wondered if Viktor would allow him to keep it forever as the two started out into the biting Russian wind.


	2. Yuuri Pushing Himself While Having a High Fever

Watching Yuuri skate, Viktor thought to himself, was like watching a small bird dip and swoop across a cloudless sky as if no one were watching. Each jump, every twirl, even the slightest twist of his hips was dripping with passion and intensity, and Viktor felt a surge of pride course through him.

Viktor stood outside the rink, hands eagerly gripping the edge of the wall, as he watched Yuuri glide across the ice with the poise and grace of a figure skater. A big competition was rapidly approaching, and Viktor had been coaching Yuuri endlessly. He briefly thought he should he worried with how exhausted his fiance was becoming, but his worries were washed away each day when Yuuri stepped onto the ice.

Viktor tightened his grip and leaned forward just as Yuuri bent his knees to push up into a leap. He’s seen Yuuri execute this leap brilliantly day in and day out, but it never failed to leave him in awe. It was the climax to a beautiful, contemporary dance, and it whisked Viktor’s breath away every time.

He watched with trained, focused eyes as Yuuri pushed up on wobbling legs, and before he knew it, he was bracing himself up and over the wall, sporting a frown as he bolted across the ice just as Yuuri crumpled to the ground.

“Yuuri!” Viktor shouted breathlessly as he dropped down to his knees at Yuuri’s side.

Yuuri was facing away from Viktor and attempting to hold himself up with shaking arms, and Viktor’s brows creased with worry as he hesitantly placed his hand against Yuuri’s trembling back.

“What happened?” Viktor questioned quickly, voice panicked. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“N-no.”

Viktor slid his hand up to Yuuri’s shoulder, prompting his fiance to turn and look at him, and soon after, Viktor let out a hushed string of Russian curses. Yuuri was breathing hard, and his face was void of color, with the exception bright, flushed cheeks.

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed out as he cupped Yuuri’s cheek. It felt warm– too warm despite the ice surrounding the two. But, Viktor had been without gloves all day, so it was hard to say if his hand was just colder than normal.

Yuuri turned his head away from Viktor’s hand. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

“Have you been feeling unwell?” Viktor stood and helped Yuuri get to his feet.

“A little,” Yuuri started, holding onto Viktor’s arms for support. “But I’m fine. Really.” He shot Viktor one of his soft, persuasive smiles, but Viktor wasn’t having it.

“How long?” He asked, not ignoring how Yuuri was still gripping his arms as if he would fall over at any moment.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Yuuri started, only to stop when Viktor took a step forward despite there not being much space between the two as it was.

“How. Long?” Viktor repeated, tone unyielding. His eyes darted across Yuuri’s worn down features, and he mentally cursed himself for not saying something sooner.

“A week,” Yuuri whispered, and Viktor sucked in a sharp breath. He took another step forward and brushed his bangs back before he pressed his forehead against Yuuri’s. The heat was alarming, and Viktor pulled back with a deep frown.

“You are far too warm, Yuuri.” Viktor stepped back, brushing the back of his hand down Yuuri’s cheek just to see once more– to dispel any thoughts that Yuuri’s face was merely hot from performing his routine.

“Viktor, I’m fi-”

Viktor held his hand up. “Enough, Yuuri. You are unwell. You’ve been unwell. You should have said something. Do you realize that you could have seriously hurt yourself skating with a fever like that?” His tone was harsh, but concern colored his eyes.

“I need to be perfect,” Yuuri replied, voice cracking slightly as tears welled in his eyes, and Viktor’s heart lurched. He gripped Yuuri’s trembling hands within his own.

“You already are,” he said, voice soft, reassuring. “Trust me. Taking time off to rest and get better will not affect your performance.”

Viktor could tell that Yuuri wanted to argue, but his fiance just nodded weakly in reply, which left Viktor feeling slightly scared. He quickly led Yuuri off the ice and got him out of his skates and into his coat in a matter of minutes.

Outside, Viktor waved for a taxi, deciding it best to not make the trip home on foot because Yuuri had started to shiver hard beside him.

The taxi driver shot questioning looks from the rear-view mirror as soon as Viktor ushered Yuuri into the car, but Viktor ignored him in favor of pressing his palm against Yuuri’s burning forehead, trying to gauge the temperature by touch alone. This wasn’t much his forte, but he could tell based on the heat and Yuuri’s chattering teeth that it wasn’t good.

It only took twenty minutes until he had Yuuri home and tucked into bed under three blankets. He retrieved a thermometer, laying it gently underneath Yuuri’s tongue before brushing the back of his hand against Yuuri’s forehead once more. The heat rolling off of his fiance was concerning, and the beeping thermometer yielding a 39.8 degree reading did nothing to alleviate his worries.

“Ah, Yuuri,” Viktor cooed, brushing Yuuri’s bangs away. “You are burning up.”

Yuuri nodded, pulling the blankets up higher as strong shivers wracked his body, and Viktor watched sympathetically.

“You really should have told me you were feeling unwell,” he scolded lightly, heart wrenching in his chest at the weak “sorry” that followed.

“It’s alright,” Viktor said, eyeing Yuuri with determined eyes. “I will take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri breathed out, and Viktor smiled softly.

“Of course,” he said, voice smooth and fond, as he watched Yuuri’s breathing even out.


	3. Yuuri Hiding a Cold from Viktor While Viktor Is Away On Business, and the Cold Gets Way Worse

Russian winters, Yuuri often found himself thinking, were not kind to him. The biting wind and freezing temperatures accompanied with seemingly constant snowfall was not panning out in his favor. His body was having trouble adjusting to it, and he found himself getting sick shortly after Viktor left for a week-long business trip three hours from their home.

But, he opted to not tell Viktor this because this business trip has had Viktor in a whirlwind of stress, and Yuuri did not want to add to that with his own ailments. So, he did his best to sound chipper on the phone with Viktor despite feeling anything but.

It hadn’t started out all that bad; it seemed to be simply a chest cold– nothing he couldn’t handle on his own. He took the necessary precautions; he went to get cough medicine and fever reducers, just in case, and he spent a lot of his time in bed resting. However, he wasn’t getting better– the opposite actually. He was getting worse, way worse.

The cough medicine was doing nothing to alleviate the constant coughing fits that left him doubled over and gasping for breath. He was freezing despite the heat being turned up way higher than usual, and he was neglecting eating and drinking in favor of staying curled up on the bed under every blanket he and Viktor owned. And he was tired, so very tired. Despite almost constant sleeping, he felt exhausted.

But, still, he didn’t tell Viktor, but luckily, Viktor seemed distracted on some of their more recent phone calls, so Yuuri didn’t have to try hard in hiding how he was feeling.

However, four days in, and Yuuri was absolutely miserable. He couldn’t stop shivering, his head was pounding, but most concerning, there was a stabbing pain in his chest that was forcing him to breathe in short, choppy breaths. Any attempt at breathing deeply left him hunched over and clutching at his tightening chest as strong forceful coughs tore up his throat.

He was getting scared, and he just wanted Viktor. He was only half-aware of the time being 3:14 am when he pressed Viktor’s speed dial number.

_“Yuuri?”_

Viktor’s voice was thick with sleep, but there was a strong hint of concern, and that was all it took. Yuuri let out a strangled sob that left him coughing hard and grabbing at his tightening throat.

_“Yuuri! What’s wrong? Are you alright?”_

His heart was hammering against his chest. “N-no,” he wheezed out, teeth chattering hard as chills coursed through his body. He felt like ice, but his chest felt hot and tight.

_“Okay, Yuuri. Hang on. I’m coming, okay?”_

“K-kay,” Yuuri chattered, setting the phone down when he heard the soft click indicating that Viktor hung up. He curled himself into a tight ball, squeezing his eyes shut as the room began to spin. Tears were still pouring from his eyes, but he was able to drift off to sleep knowing that Viktor was coming.

*****

Yuuri was jolted awake what felt like only moments later by a hand shaking his shoulder.

“Yuuri, please wake up!”

His eyes snapped open, and he shot up into a sitting position as a forceful coughing fit took over that had his eyes welling.

“Okay, Yuuri. Just try and breathe, please.”

Viktor! Yuuri looked up, and despite his blurring vision, he could make out Viktor’s soft, worried face. “Viktor,” he breathed out, collapsing against his fiance as every single ounce of energy drained from his body.

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmured, voice laced with concern. “You’re burning.”

Yuuri wanted to argue that he was freezing actually, but he simply nodded against Viktor’s neck. He could feel himself drifting once more, and he vaguely heard something about going to a clinic before everything went dark.

*****

“I’m never leaving you alone again,” Viktor grumbled as he helped Yuuri back into bed.

Yuuri couldn’t remember much. He remembered waking up to Viktor, and after that, everything was dark until he woke up in a hospital being and was diagnosed with pneumonia. Everything past that was a whirlwind of sleeping, coughing, shivering, then finally, feeling well enough to be discharged two days later. Viktor had been oddly quiet the whole time, and Yuuri had been waiting for the right to question his fiance about it.

“Are you okay?” He asked as Viktor tucked the blankets around him.

Viktor laughed, though, there was no heart to it. He slumped down onto the edge of the bed beside Yuuri, taking the brunet’s hand.

Yuuri frowned at the slight tremor in Viktor’s hand. “Viktor-”

“You scared me, Yuuri.” Viktor whispered, brushing his thumb along Yuuri’s hand but not meeting Yuuri’s wide, worried eyes. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Yuuri brought Viktor’s hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. “I’m sorry, Viktor. I didn’t think it would get that bad.”

Viktor turned until he was facing Yuuri. “But you need to tell me these things, Yuuri! I would have never went had I known you were feeling unwell!”

Yuuri winced, dropping Viktor’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

Viktor’s face fell, and he cupped Yuuri’s warm cheek. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not angry. I’m just worried about you.”

Yuuri’s eyes began to water, and his voice caught in his throat. He nodded.

“But, I’m here now, and I’m going to take care of you, okay?” Viktor brushed away a tear that slid down Yuuri’s cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Yuuri nodded once more with a soft smile, feeling a warmth within his body that he hadn’t felt in days.


	4. "I don't feel so good" ft. Sick Yurio

Yuri had been accustomed to hiding illnesses because he wasn’t fond of people babying him, but when he woke from a nap at Yuuri’s house with his stomach churning violently, he thought today may be the day he actually tells someone.

He slowly sat up, hands quickly shooting to his head as the room started to spin. He felt hot; sweat was beading and pooling down his temples, but he was shaking hard. The pressure in his head was almost unbearable, and his stomach was still twisting painfully.

He carefully shifted around until he feet were planted on the floor, and he pushed up into a standing position, knees buckling viciously. He contemplated calling out for Yuuri, but the faint music playing from the kitchen had him snapping his mouth shut. He was just going to have to do this the hard way.

He staggered towards the door, struggling to move in a straight line thanks to the dizziness clouding his vision. He made his way out into the hallway, leaning heavily against the wall for support as he crept forward with hunched shoulders. Keeping one arm wrapped tightly around his flipping stomach, he kept shuffling forward until the kitchen came into view.

“Yuuri,” he called out weakly, forgetting the usual ‘Katsudon’. He watched as Yuuri spun around with a frown.

“Yurio?”

Yuri’s composure was crumbling with each passing second. “I don’t feel so good,” he breathed out, clenching his teeth as an intense wave of nausea washed over his trembling body.

Yuuri was at his side in seconds. “What’s wrong?”

“Stomach,” Yuri muttered. “Dizzy.” His stomach was starting to churn worryingly, and he squeezed his eyes shut to try ignore the spinning room.

Yuuri pressed a cool palm to his forehead just as Viktor walked back into the room.

“What’s going on?” Viktor questioned, hurrying to Yuri’s side.

“Yurio’s not well,” Yuuri said, lips pulled into a deep frown. “He’s burning up. He came in and said his stomach was hurting and that he’s dizzy.”

Viktor brushed the back of his hand against Yuri’s forehead, tsking lightly at the heat. “You’ve definitely got a fever, Yurio.”

Yuri offered one sharp nod. The heat washing over his body was becoming unbearable as his stomach lurched violently, and before he knew what was happening, he was pushing past the two towards the closest bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet just as hot bile clawed up his throat. He heaved into the toilet, wincing at the burn scraping against his throat.

A gentle hand on his back had him jumping, but the hand began to move in soft, soothing circles– a contrast to the strained, trembling muscles in his back. He pushed his focus towards the gentle hand motion as he heaved into the toilet, and not long after, his stomach was settling enough. He reached up with a shaking hand to flush the toilet before dropping his forehead against the cool porcelain, panting from exertion.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri’s voice was a nice welcome after the gagging that echoed against the walls for the last five minutes or so.

“Y-yeah,” he muttered, but the crack in his voice said otherwise.

“Do you think you are finished?”

Yuri nodded and allowed the older boy to pull him to his feet, but when he started to sway, Yuuri snaked an arm around his waist.

“It’s okay,” Yuuri said, voice soft and gentle. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”                                                                                                                        

Yuri leaned heavily against Yuuri, and when the two reached Yuri’s room, they found Viktor setting a trash bin beside the bed.

“Are you okay, Yurio?” Viktor asked, tone laced with concern.

Yuri offered one, weak nod as Yuuri helped him into bed. He curled onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest and shivering hard.

The room fell silent, and Yuri knew that the two were hovering over him and frowning, so he cracked one eye open. “I’ll be fine,” he mumbled despite feeling anything but.

“Of course you will be,” Viktor started, smiling lightly at him. “Because Yuuri and I are going to take care of you.”

Yuuri nodded in agreement, and Yuri breathed out a light huff before snuggling deeper into the bed, tightening the blankets around him.

“Rest for now, Yurio.”

“Kay,” Yuri whispered, already succumbing to the sleep tugging at him gingerly.


	5. Sick Otabek ft. One, Worried, Awkward Yuri

Yuri wasn’t one to openly ask people things; he much preferred to silently study. However, he’d been watching Otabek closely as the two waited for their turns to skate, and it left his nerves a tangled mess.

Otabek was sitting hunched over with one arm wrapped tightly around his stomach, and despite the jacket he had on over his costume, he was shivering. His face, from what Yuri could see at an angle, was frighteningly pale, yet his cheeks were flushed a deep red. Worse, though, was that he’d been this way since the two arrived.

Yuri briefly contemplated pegging Otabek’s behavior on nerves, but he had never seen his friend visibly display nerves for a competition before, so that was out of the question. He did not want to accept the more obvious, logical answer, but the heat radiating from Otabek left him frowning deeply.

“You’re sick.” Yuri said, keeping his voice quiet so not to draw the attention of the skaters around them.

“Yeah.”

Yuri’s eyes widened slightly. He wasn’t expecting Otabek to willingly agree, and that just made the situation all the more concerning. He took a second to glance around as if the answers on what to do lied within the shaking, anxious bodies of the skaters scattered around them.

Just as he was about to say something, the announcers called for the next competitor, and Yuri chewed lightly at his bottom lip as his eyes zeroed in on the rink in front of them. Vivid images of Otabek painting the ice with vomit flashed hot across his mind, and he shook his head before turning his attention back to his friend.

“You can’t skate,” he tried, but he knew that wasn’t possible. There was no getting out of this competition. “But you have to,” he muttered, more to himself, but Otabek still heard.

“I know.”

“You’re not, like, dying, right?” Yuri’s worry surfaced in the only form he was capable of- awkwardness. He rubbed his hands up and down his covered thighs as he watched Otabek sigh.

“No.”

Yuri stole a glance to make sure no one was watching before brushing his knuckles quickly against Otabek’s cheek, and it took every ounce of his willpower to not jerk his hand away in a big scene.

“You’re burning,” he hissed, absently rubbing at his knuckles as if the heat seared through his skin.

“I know,” Otabek spit back, tone clipped and tense, and Yuri winced.

“Let me,” he paused, eyes darting around the room. “Let me get water.” He hopped to his feet but froze when a hot, trembling hand latched onto his wrist.

“Don’t,” Otabek pleaded weakly, and Yuri snapped his attention towards his friend.

“Why? Aren’t people supposed to drink water when sick?” Yuri tiled his head, the exact definition of puzzlement, but the hand wrapped around his wrist tightened.

“I can’t.”

Yuri watched as Otabek struggled to just say those two words, and the gears in his mind clicked into hyper-drive. He quickly reclaimed his spot beside Otabek, leaning in close. “Oh, are you going to throw up?”

“Yuri,” Otabek warned through clenched teeth as he pressed his arm harder into his stomach.

Yuri breathed out a small apology, and before he knew it, he was being called to perform.

“Try not to die,” Yuri whispered to Otabek before he shrugged out of his jacket and adjusted his hair slightly.

He skated towards the center of the rink, eyes briefly flitting towards Otabek just as the music started.

Yuri moved as if on autopilot, mind consumed with worry for Otabek, and it wasn’t until his first slip up that his mind finally kicked into high gear. He pushed through the routine, almost willing the music to match his speed. His normal airy, fluid motions were tense, and he landed each jump sharply.

He felt relief wash over him as the song reached its end. The crowd broke out into applause as the last chord played, and he only held his pose for a few seconds before darting off the ice, ignoring the comments from his fellow competitors as he frantically searched for Otabek, who was not where Yuri had left him.

He shoved out of the stadium, panic swelling within his stomach as his eyes darted up and down the hallway. When he spotted the bathroom, he moved towards it just as two competitors walked out.

“If Otabek’s sick, maybe one of us has a better chance of winning.”

Yuri glared at the two before shouldering past them to burst into the bathroom. He was met with a loud, echoing retching sound, and he pushed on each stall door until one didn’t give away to his hand. “Beka?”

He was only greeted with harsh gagging sounds as Otabek continued to heave into the toilet. “You go on after the person on right now.” He said, pressing his hand against the stall, and after a few more moments, the only sound that filled the bathroom was the toilet flushing. Yuri stepped back just as Otabek opened the stall.

“Wow,” was all Yuri managed out. There was no color to Otabek’s face save the crimson splotches high on his cheeks, and he was shaking hard all over.

“Um, you going to make it?” He asked, following Otabek to the sinks.

“Have to,” Otabek muttered before turning on the faucet and splashing water over his face.

Yuri watched, brows creased deep with concern, and a few seconds later, the intercoms called for Otabek.

Yuri studied the tension pushing Otabek’s shoulders high up. He was deeply concerned for his friend, so he could only imagine how Otabek must feel. He wordlessly followed Otabek out of the bathroom and back to the stadium, and he absently took Otabek’s jacket when handed to him and mumbled a quiet “be careful” just before Otabek stepped out into the rink.

Yuri watched closely, eyes growing bigger and bigger as Otabek performed. He had thought for sure that Otabek would struggle, but the latter was gliding across the ice beautifully, leaving no hint of how he was really feeling.

Otabek’s eyes were glimmering and intense, sporting the look of someone who was yearning for a win, and for a moment, Yuri was able to forget his friend’s ailments entirely. However, as soon as the music stopped, reality came crashing back.

Yuri’s grip on Otabek’s jacket tightened as he stared hard at his friend. Otabek’s chest was heaving from exertion, and he looked only seconds from collapsing. Yuri dropped the jacket, heart halfway up his throat, and was already moving to enter the rink just as Otabek’s legs buckled, crashing hard to his knees.

The entire stadium fell silent, and before Yuri knew it, he was darting across the ice with the paramedics hot on his heels.

“Beka?” He questioned breathlessly, dropping to his knees beside his friend just as the paramedics shoved forward.

“High fever.” One said with a palm pressed to Otabek’s forehead.

“Possible dehydration. Have you thrown up?” Another asked. 

Yuri watched with wide, panicked eyes as Otabek wordlessly answered the questions shoved at him, and the following few minutes were a flurry of activity. A stretcher was brought out despite Otabek’s weak protests, and Yuri ignored the paramedics as he climbed into the back of the ambulance right after Otabek, with their jackets and bags in hand.

His phone was buzzing persistently, and he knew that Yuuri and Viktor had been watching. But, he opted to ignore the texts and calls for now, putting all of his attention towards his friend, who was sitting up on his stretcher with a frown.

“This is entirely unnecessary.”

Yuri scoffed. “Just shut up and let them do what they need to.”

Otabek’s frowned deepened, but he obliged.

“We will keep him in until we get his fever lowered, but he should be released within the next few hours as long as he promises to obey strict bed rest for the next few days.” The paramedic working on Otabek informed as they pulled into the hospital lot.

Yuri nodded, and the paramedic left them for a moment.

“Well that could have been worse,” Yuri chimed in, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two. “You could have fainted halfway through.”

Otabek shot him a glare, and Yuri only shrugged in response. The two fell back into silence as the events of the day caught up to them. 

“So don’t do that again, okay?” Yuri said suddenly, voice uncharacteristically soft. “That whole skating while really sick thing.” He waved his hand. “Never again.”

He met Otabek’s eyes, heart finally slowing down as relief washed over him in slow waves.

“I can’t promise that,” Otabek said, and Yuri rolled his eyes.

“Idiot,” he breathed out through a light laugh just as the paramedic returned with a nurse to bring them in. 


	6. Yuuri Getting Hit with a Stomach Flu While on a Date with Viktor

They had planned the date well in advance, so when the day finally rolled around, Yuuri opted to ignore the lethargy and the cramps flaring hot across his stomach in favor of enjoying the day with Viktor.

The plans consisted of a stroll through the park before going to watch a movie- not there usual style, but Viktor often liked to spice things up.

The possibility of dinner was also thrown around when planning, but luckily, Yuuri talked Viktor into a home-cooked meal instead of eating out, a decision stemmed from the dull ache in his stomach that only seemed to grow with each passing day.

While the day of the date bore relatively warm temperatures, Yuuri bundled up into a coat, feeling chilled to the bone. When Viktor questioned him about it, he easily deflected with the idea that he got cold easily, and Viktor seemed to accept that well enough for he was too distracted to show Yuuri the park.

The park was one Viktor often visited as a child, and when they arrived, Yuuri could see why. A light stone path framed with towering trees wrapped around a large, circular pond with water so clear that Yuuri could see all the way to the bottom. Occasional benches lined the path and were occupied by mothers and fathers watching their children play close to the pond.

The setting was soft, serene, and the nostalgic look in Viktor’s eyes left Yuuri momentarily forgetting his own ailments. However, a strong breeze brushed past, bringing the warmth of spring, but it felt arctic to Yuuri, and he shuddered, snapping back to reality just as quickly as he fell out.

Luckily, Viktor was still blissfully reliving his past as they walked, so he didn’t notice Yuuri’s soft shivers beside him.

The two walked like this, fingers laced tightly together, for an hour, and while Yuuri adored how Viktor would excitedly point out places where he played as a child, he couldn’t get his mind off his churning stomach or the sweat sliding down the back of his neck despite his bones feeling as if they were made of ice.

It was getting harder and harder to stay upright with each step, and matching Viktor’s swift pace was draining what little energy he had. Nausea was washing over him in slow, violent waves, and suddenly he felt hot, boiling.

His skin was prickling with heat that crawled all over his body, yet he was shaking hard, and it didn’t take long for Viktor to feel the strong tremors from his hand.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri forced a polite smile before pulling his hand away. “Sorry, I’d like to take my coat off.” He tried to ignore Viktor’s deep frown as he struggled with the buttons of his coat.

“Are you alright? You look very pale..”

Laughing nervously, Yuuri shot Viktor a shaky smile. “Of course,” he said just as he shrugged out of his coat. “I just got hot suddenly,” he lied through clenched teeth as his stomach flipped dangerously.

“Let’s sit down for a minute, okay?”

Yuuri nodded quickly and allowed Viktor to lead him, one hand on the small of his back, to a vacant bench. Yuuri all but collapsed down onto the bench, which, he soon realized, did not to ease the concern coloring Viktor’s face.

“You really don’t look well, Yuuri.”

Yuuri breathed out a weak laugh, waving one hand absently. “No, I’m okay,” he tried despite the bile threatening to shoot up his throat as his stomach lurched. “Just need a minute.” His heart was racing, and his limbs were trembling hard. He hunched over, bracing his hands against his knees and breathing slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth.

He didn’t hear Viktor take a seat beside him, but he welcomed the steady hand on his trembling back.

“Are you going to be sick?”

Yuuri shook his head as he focused on his breathing. In an out. In and out. In and out, until his heart beat slowed to a healthy pace and his stomach settled some, nausea diminishing slightly.

The shivers coursing through him eased off, and after a few more moments, he was able to sit up and meet Viktor’s wide, worried eyes.

“Sorry, I think I got overheated for a moment,” he said, shooting Viktor a sheepish grin, and while his eyes were still painted with concern, Viktor returned the smile.

“Let’s keep this coat off then, yeah?”

Yuuri nodded and got to his feet when Viktor pulled him up. The two picked back up on their walk, but only ten minutes later, Viktor was running to greet an elderly woman he often met with at the park as a child.

“One moment, love!” Viktor called over his shoulder, and Yuuri smiled and waved in response. He watched fondly as Viktor greeted the woman with a hug; however, a sudden, violent cramp in his stomach left him stumbling through the trees and out of sight.

His entire body was shaking hard, and he braced himself against a tree as nausea left his stomach lurching. Hot bile clawed up his throat, and before he knew it, he was hunched over, heaving into the grass beside the tree.

His buckling knees gave out, and he collapsed onto all fours as wave after wave left his muscles convulsing violently as he heaved onto the grass.

His throat was burning, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. He could barely hold himself up with how badly his arms were shaking, and his head felt as if it were splitting into two.

“Yuuri!”

Viktor’s voice felt like a knife piercing his mind, but it was welcomed all the same. The loud, rapid footsteps stopped beside him, and seconds later, he could feel frantic hands rubbing on his back as he continued to heave and cry until his stomach finally settled minutes later.

His lungs were working in overdrive, desperate to make up for the loss of air over the last few minutes, and he collapsed into Viktor’s open arms, shivering and panting.

“My poor Yuuri. You should have said you were feeling ill!”

Viktor’s voice was laced with sympathy, which only left Yuuri crying harder. He should have said something, but Viktor had been so excited, and he didn’t want to ruin it. But, he did.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped out through chattering teeth. The heat he felt from before was long gone, replaced with a tough sheet of ice covering his bones.

When Viktor pulled away, he let out a small whimper at the loss of his body heat, but his once abandoned coat was soon being draped across his shoulders.

Viktor rubbed up and down his arms before placing a steady palm to his forehead.

“Yuuri!” Viktor exclaimed, eyes bright with worry. “You’re burning up!”

Yuuri’s only response was to wrap an arm around his stomach as it cramped once more. He felt miserable but even more so because he ruined their date. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “The date-”

“That doesn’t matter, Yuuri! You matter!”

Yuuri swiped at his welling eyes with his free hand, and moments later, Viktor was slowly helping him to his feet. The second he was standing, he staggered. All of the trees towering over them seemed to be swaying, and he felt himself swaying with them. But, he stilled when a strong arm wrapped around his waist.

“You really aren’t well,” Viktor noted, voice concerned. “Let’s get you home.”

Yuuri offered one nod, and the two started the long walk back to Viktor’s car. Many people passing by shot hesitant, worried looks, but Viktor was quick to deflect any concern with a charming smile.

Yuuri was thankful when Viktor’s car came into view because he felt his legs would give out at any second. He was leaning most of his weight against Viktor, but the latter never uttered a single complaint.

Once buckled into the passenger seat, Yuuri grabbed hold of Viktor’s wrist before he could shut the door. Viktor quickly turned and crouched until they were eye level.

“What is it Yuuri?”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said. “I know how much you were looking forward to this.”

Viktor’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward, pressing gentle lips to Yuuri’s burning forehead.

“Please do not worry about that, Yuuri,” Viktor started. “You come first. You always come first.”

Yuuri nodded, and Viktor closed the door, appearing at the driver’s side moments later.

“Now, let’s get you home so I can take care of you.”

“Kay,” Yuuri breathed out, snuggling back against the seat and resting his head against the window as the car started back to home. Their home.


	7. A Trip to the Movies with Viktor, Yuuri, and One, Sick Yurio

As a skater, days off are scarce. There’s always the constant push to get better, be better, perform better, so there’s no room for breaks. Viktor and Yuuri only take one day off a month, and Yurio typically takes the same day, claiming the rink would be too boring without the two old geezers keeping him on his toes.

This last month has proven to be beyond stressful with competition coming up, but to make matters worse, a nasty strain of the flu was taking out skaters one by one.

To no one’s surprise, Yuuri was the first victim, and Viktor had followed suit. After that, skaters were dropping like flies, and yet, Yurio lucked out. He had spent the week begrudgingly tending to Yuuri and Viktor, and when another week passed after the two older men were well again, Yurio was still feeling fine.

With all three feeling well, they opt to go ahead and take their day off, feeling they earned it after that disastrous flu. 

However, Yurio wakes up the day of their break drenched in sweat yet shivering like mad, but he opts to not dwell on it. He may have left the window open over night, and if he can recall, his dreams last night had not been the best.

A shower sounds amazing to him for he wants nothing more than to rinse off his sweat-soaked skin, but when he hops out of bed, the room sways, and he has to brace his hand on the bedside table to keep from toppling over. He shakes his head, and after a few moments, the room stills, and he goes about his morning, pegging the dizziness on standing up too quickly.

While the shower did wonders for his icy bones, he’s still feeling slightly off, but nothing too concerning. He dries off and tosses some clothes on before starting towards the kitchen and finding Yuuri and Viktor whipping up a big breakfast.

“Morning,” he mutters, dropping into a chair at the table. The sweet, heated smell of breakfast is leaving his stomach in low, twisted knots, but when Yuuri places a full plate in front of him, he doesn’t decline.

He picks at his food, only eating a few bites before setting his fork down and pushing his plate away.

“Are you okay, Yurio?”

Yurio tilts his head in question at the concern coloring Yuuri’s tone.

“You don’t look very well.”

Ever the observant, Yurio thinks to himself. Nodding, he lifts his arms above his head into a stretch. “I’m just a bit tired, but I’m fine.”

“Are you up for a movie this afternoon, or would you rather stay and rest?”

Yurio shifts his gaze toward Viktor’s questioning eyes, and he offers a nod. He has nothing better to do, and the thought of spending his one day off lying around just did not seem all that appealing despite feeling more tired than usual.

*****

As the three approach the theater, Yurio finds himself lagging slightly behind. Every bone, every muscle, is sore, throbbing even. He feels as if he skated too hard, but he didn’t see the point in saying anything now that the three are already here. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets to ward of the chill of the cool, Russian wind, he does his best to keep pace with the two older men in front of him.

“Are you sure you are alright, Yurio? You’re awfully quiet.”

Yurio rolls his eyes at Viktor’s worried tone. “Fine,” he answers, but his voice betrays him as the one word comes out as a slight rasp. He clears his throat and mutters under his breath about swallowing wrong just as the three enter the building.

The harsh, strong smell of popcorn leaves Yurio wrapping one arm around his stomach as nausea washes over him in one, fell swoop. When Viktor and Yuuri announce that they will pay for the tickets, he nods quickly before he moves to a wall a little ways off, leaning hard against it and rubbing gingerly at his forehead. The heat against his fingertips has him groaning, but when he catches sight of Yuuri and Viktor approaching, he pushes off the wall and follows the two into the theater.

Yurio is thankful when the lights finally dim until he can barely see his hand in front of him. The quicker the movie starts, the quicker it will end, so he can get away from the horrid smell of grease and butter wafting from the bucket in Viktor’s lap. 

However, as the movie progresses, so does Yurio’s nausea. His stomach is flipping violently, leaving his heart hammering hard against his chest. The chill he woke up with has been replaced with a stifling heat that’s feels like small bugs flitting across his skin, and he knows by now that he only has a few minutes to get to the bathroom in time.

He gets to his feet, but standing ends with the room tilting, and he falls back into his seat, clutching at his head.

Everything is suddenly too hot, too loud, and before Yurio knows what’s happening, he’s doubling over with a gag. He can feel hands on his back, and moments later, he heaves, muscles convulsing as he empties the contents of his stomach all over the theater floor at his feet.

He can hear hushed conversation, with “the flu” being thrown around, followed by footsteps racing down the stairs, and he doesn’t have to look up to know it’s Yuuri fleeing the scene. The older boy has always had a sensitive stomach.

The heaving goes on for a solid three minutes until all that’s coming up is hot, burning bile that leaves his eyes watering. After a few more moments, he sits up and regrets it almost immediately. The theater lights are back on, and people are shuffling out of their seats with disgusted looks.

He’s shaking hard, unaware of the tears spilling from his eyes until he’s pulled into Viktor’s arms.

“Everything’s going to be just fine.”

Despite Viktor’s soothing voice, Yurio feels mortified. He wants to crawl into a hole and never leave. He clutches at the back of Viktor’s shirt, lightly sobbing into the older boy’s neck just as Yuuri comes racing back with three of the janitorial staff.

“We can get this cleaned up in no time. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Yurio stands when Viktor does and allows the older man to pull him away from the seats as the three staff members get to work. He’s not aware of the constant, repeated apologies slipping from his tongue until Yuuri pulls him into a hug.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Yurio.”

Yurio’s not so sure about that, but he nods all the same. Now that everything’s public, he openly shivers in Yuuri’s arms, sniffling away as a few, stray tears slip down his cheeks.

“We should go home now.”

Yurio pulls away as Viktor approaches with their things. He nods, and the three start down the steps to leave the room.

While wedged between Viktor and Yuuri’s warmth, Yurio can almost feel comfortable, but his burning face and heavy limbs scream otherwise.

“I guess you aren’t completely invincible to illness.”

Viktor’s tone is light, teasing- a clear attempt to make Yurio feel better. But, Yurio only drops his head in response, wringing his hands as they exit the theater.

However, a strong arm wrapping around his shoulders has him looking up at Yuuri’s gentle eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, Yurio. We will take care of you now, okay?”

He nods and leans into Yuuri’s warmth as the three start toward Viktor’s car.


	8. Yuuri with the Chicken Pox

Viktor had grown accustomed to Yuuri’s sudden bouts of depression, but his fiance’s recent anger had caught him off guard.

When the two had woken up and Viktor asked about breakfast, Yuuri had snapped at him, claiming he wasn’t hungry in the slightest. Viktor felt he should be concerned by Yuuri’s lack of appetite, but his attention was solely focused on how mad Yuuri had seemed.

And as the day progressed, Yuuri’s anger remained, leaving Viktor helpless as to what to do. He felt as if he were walking on glass around Yuuri, who seemed to want to spend the day dozing on the couch.

Viktor opted to simply leave Yuuri be. He occupied a chair in the living room and aimlessly flipped through TV channels while Yuuri drifted on and off.

Viktor kept silent, content on ignoring Yuuri, if that was what the latter wanted, but after a few moments, he found his eyes drifting over to Yuuri, who was kicking the blanket off of him as if his life depended on it.

“Yuuri?” He questioned quietly, brow creasing slightly in concern.

“Why’s it so hot?” Yuuri asked, and the desperation laced within his tone had Viktor on his feet and at Yuuri’s side in seconds.

Viktor personally found the temperature of the room comfortable, but the deep flush painted across Yuuri’s cheeks was enough to show how hot the latter felt. He gently brushed his fingertips down Yuuri’s cheek, frowning deeply at the heat.

“I think we should check your temperature, love. I think you may have a fever.” To Viktor’s surprise, Yuuri didn’t argue, and he helped Yuuri off the couch and into their bedroom. He sat Yuuri down onto the edge of the bed before running to retrieve the thermometer and a pair of Yuuri’s pajamas from the washing machine.

When he walked back into the room, Yuuri was nodding off in his seated position. His face softened some as he knelt in front of Yuuri. “Under your tongue,” he commanded softly, stirring Yuuri from his dozing.

Yuuri obliged, and Viktor watched with furrowed brows as the latter absently scratched at his stomach while the numbers on the thermometer climbed.

When the device beeped, Viktor was quick to grab it, and the low worry swelling within his chest heightened at the 38.9 Degrees Celsius reading blinking at him.

“That’s quite the fever,” Viktor murmured softly as he handed the night shirt to Yuuri. “Change and get into bed.”

He stepped back as Yuuri started to slip his shirt off, but before Yuuri could put the night shirt on, Viktor grabbed his wrist, eyes zeroing in on a small mark ringed with red on Yuuri’s stomach.

“Viktor, what-”

“Does that itch?” Viktor asked, fingers gently tracing the mark. The gears in his head were turning quickly, and Yuuri’s muttered “yes” in reply had everything clicking into place.

“Ah, Yuuri,” Viktor cooed softly. “I think you have the chicken pox.”

He watched as Yuuri looked down, studying the mark on his bare stomach.

“You’ve never had the chicken pox as a child?” He questioned when Yuuri poked at the mark.

Yuuri shook his head in response, and Viktor swore quietly under his breath.

“Am I going to die?” Yuuri asked suddenly, eyes filled with tears, and Viktor dropped to his knees in front of his fiance, clasping his trembling hands.

“Of course not! You will be just fine!” He squeezed Yuuri’s hand. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

“But-”

Viktor shook his head, quieting Yuuri. “I’ve already had it, Yuuri,” he said, already knowing what objection Yuuri had been planning to say.

He stood, swiping his thumb underneath Yuuri’s eye to brush away a stray tear. “Finish getting changed,” he said gently, and Yuuri obliged.

Viktor left the room to retrieve some medicine, and when he came back, Yuuri was buried under the blankets, trembling hard.

“I feel terrible,” Yuuri said, teeth chattering, and Viktor nodded sympathetically as he pulled a chair up beside the bed.

“I know,” Viktor said softly. “I just need you to take this medicine, and then you can sleep.” He helped Yuuri into a sitting position just long enough for Yuuri to take the two pills and wash them down with water before Yuuri fell back against the pillows.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so grouchy,” Yuuri muttered, already half-asleep, and Viktor laughed quietly in response.

“That’s quite alright, love. Just rest.”


	9. Yurio with the Chicken Pox ft. Caretaker Otabek

When Otabek walked into the rink, his eyes zeroed in on Yuri lying face first at the center of the ice. Frowning, he dropped his bag onto a bench and walked over to the glass-less barrier. He dropped his hands on the edge of the barrier and leaned forward, squinting.

“Yuri,” he tried, and he mentally agreed that Yuri had five seconds to answer before he assumed the blond was unconscious. However, after three seconds of silence, Yuri’s groan echoed across the rink.

Sighing, he braced himself over the barrier and carefully walked across the slick ice until he was standing beside the blond.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned with a slight tilt of his head.

“Hot,” Yuri muttered into the ice, and Otabek’s frown deepened.

“Look at me,” he ordered, and when Yuri turned his head until one cheek was pressed against the ice, Otabek gasped softly. 

The blond was pale save the deep red flush painted high on his cheeks, but more concerning, his face was littered with small, red marks. Upon closer inspection, Otabek could see similar marks covering the back of Yuri’s bare arms. 

Otabek crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he traced one of the marks on Yuri’s cheek lightly with his thumb. “You’ve never had the chicken pox?” He questioned slowly when the heat radiating from Yuri’s face brushed against his thumb.

Yuri furrowed his brows. “No. Why?”

Otabek sighed and got to his feet. “Well, you do now.”

“I don’t,” Yuri said as he pushed himself up on shaking arms.

Otabek slipped his phone from his pocket and snapped a quick picture before handing the phone to Yuri.

“Shit,” Yuri breathed out as he studied the picture, pinching the image to zoom in on the marks littering his cheeks.

“Let’s go,” Otabek said, holding a hand out. When Yuri placed a trembling hand in his, he curled his fingers around it tightly and pulled the blond to his feet.

As soon as Yuri was standing, he began to sway and clutched at his head, but Otabek was quick to snake a strong arm around Yuri’s waist.

“How did you not know?” Otabek asked as he carefully led the two off the ice.

“Thought I was just sick,” Yuri grumbled, and Otabek shook his head.

“Even so, why did you come today?”

“To skate,” Yuri said flatly, and Otabek breathed out a quiet sigh.

As soon as they stepped off the ice, Yuri began to shiver, and Otabek was quick to slip his jacket over Yuri’s trembling shoulders. Yuri wrapped it tightly around his shivering body with a frown.

“I was hot earlier.”

“You’ve been lying on ice,” Otabek countered before placing a palm to Yuri’s forehead. “And you’ve got a fever.”

Yuri simply shrugged in response, and Otabek worked on getting Yuri to a bench to remove his skates.

*****

“Don’t scratch,” Otabek griped from his spot on the edge of Yuri’s bed as he caught Yuri absently scratching his arm.

Yuri’s hand froze, and he let out a string of curses. “You try sitting here with a million tiny itchy dots all over your body.”

“I have,” Otabek said as he motioned for Yuri to hold out his arm. “When I was three.”

Yuri held his arm out with a pout. “Well aren’t you lucky.”

Sighing, Otabek rolled Yuri’s shirt sleeve up before grabbing the chamomile lotion from the bed side table. He squeezed a small amount into his palm and then began smoothing it over Yuri’s arm.

Yuri shivered, and Otabek muttered a small apology. “It will help,” he promised as he rubbed the lotion in.

Yuri leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes as the lotion eased the need to scratch mercilessly at his arm. He found himself nodding off before Otabek nudged him awake a while later.

“What?” He questioned tiredly, and Otabek stood, motioning for Yuri to lie back fully.

“You should get some sleep.”

Yuri nodded, already shifting around until he was reclined comfortably with the blankets pulled up to his chin. His arms and legs felt cool and tingly, and he breathed out a sigh as his eyes drifted closed.

Otabek walked out of the room only to return a few moments later with a damp cloth in hand. He carefully reclaimed his spot on the edge of the bed before he smoothed the cloth over Yuri’s burning forehead.

“Thank you,” Yuri muttered, half-asleep. “I guess,” he added as an after thought, and Otabek breathed out a quiet laugh.

“Go to sleep,” he said, voice light and fond, and Yuri didn’t need to be told again as he succumbed to sleep only moments later.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'll go back and correct any and all errors at some point!


End file.
